


Guilty

by bokutosbiceps



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, More characters and ships to come as the story continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 06:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9060514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutosbiceps/pseuds/bokutosbiceps
Summary: This story is a kind of criminal au featuring Bokuto and Akaashi as the main characters where Bokuto is being investigated for a murder that he possibly committed and Akaashi is the only journalist allowed behind the scenes to cover his case. This is my first fanfiction on this website so please bear with me since my writing skills definitely need improvement.





	

Akaashi was unpleasantly woken that morning by the god-awful clamor of his 6 AM work alarm which was set to the most obnoxious sound it could produce in order to prevent him from sleeping in.

With eyes still tightly shut, Akaashi repeatedly slammed the palm of his had onto his bedside table in an attempt to locate the cause of his misery. He found it, but in his increasing aggressiveness he knocked it off of the table and onto the floor. The alarm, at this point, was under his bed, and Akaashi realized that he would have to get out of the comfort of his bed to turn it off.

And so, he begrudgingly slid out of his warm quilt and allowed his feet to hit the cold wooden floor of his bedroom. Finally, he reached down to grab the alarm clock that was still screeching its wake-up call and firmly pressed the off button; after that came silence.

Akaashi lived alone. He had been living alone in his Tokyo apartment since he had gotten his job as a criminal justice journalist for Tokyo's most prominent news company. At times, the silence of his apartment was good when he was trying to focus on work. However, on mornings like this Akaashi sometimes wished that he had someone, preferably someone who was more of a morning person that he was, to wake him up when he might possibly sleep through his alarm, to make breakfast for him so he didn't have to grab a possibly out-of-date muffin when he was running late, and just someone to keep him company in general. "Wishful thinking," Akaashi said to himself.

He knows it's unlikely that someone like him would ever live a life like that. First of all, if that person ever came into his life he may never be able to give them the attention they deserve since he was so focused on his work at this point in time. It would be like asking that person to put their all into the relationship and only being able to give about 45% of himself. Secondly, Akaashi wasn't exactly the most loving person. His job being to interview people who have or possibly have committed crimes has hardened him in a sense that he has been exposed to a completely different breed of human. In short, it's not exactly a career that one would discuss with their spouse and three children.

And so, he came to the conclusion long ago that the life that most people aimed for just wasn't meant for him. It is for this reason that he now stands in his kitchen alone sipping his highly caffeinated black coffee. 

He glanced up at the clock in his kitchen. For once he actually wasn't running late. With that thought he decided to take time to actually enjoy his breakfast before changing into his work clothes. His office technically didn't have a dress code, but it was heavily implied that employees should dress professionally. To Akaashi, this translated to wearing the most boring clothing possible. He slipped on a black sweater that he wore at least one a week and a pair of form fitting gray slacks along with a pair of generic black dress shoes that his mother had gotten him goodness knows how long ago.

On his way out the door, Akaashi grabbed a binder that contained his most recent article which was set to be published in the next paper. It covered a robbery that occurred in an old woman's apartment. The woman lived alone because her husband had died last year. She had a caretaker who came around once a week to check her vital signs and make sure she was taking care of herself properly as her health had deteriorated greatly since her husband died.

It's funny how sometimes coincidences can work out in the criminal's favour. It just so happened that the very night that the woman's house was robbed was the night that the caretaker was running late and didn't make it to her house until an hour after he was supposed to be there. The robber, whose name was Haruto Ryusei, held the woman at gunpoint in her bed whilst he took all of her most prized possessions; including all of the expensive jewelry that her husband had ever given her. Akaashi couldn't even begin to imagine how terrified the sickly old woman must have been. He never requested to interview her because he didn't want to torment her on the subject any further than the police most likely already had. He did, however, get a chance to speak with the culprit himself. It was a sickening interview. When Akaashi had asked the man to confirm the actions of his crime, he smugly laughed agreed with every accusation. Akaashi hated speaking to people like that. It was almost like robbing that woman of both her tangible memories of her husband and her sanity was a game to him.

Thankfully, all of the woman's possessions were able to be returned, but her caretaker said that she had become so paranoid that she has started hiding a kitchen knife under her pillow and had spent what was left of her late husband's insurance money on tighter security.

With the file clutched against his chest, Akaashi began his journey down the empty hallway of his apartment complex towards the stairs. He didn't like taking the elevator because when he first moved in he had heard from a neighbor that it frequently got stuck. Akaashi lived on the third floor, so it wasn't that long of a walk down the stairs.

He was close enough to his workplace that he could either choose to walk or take the bus. Akaashi only took the bus on mornings where he was running late; on this particular morning, he had allowed himself enough time to walk. In a way, he preferred walking more because it gave him time to wake up before he had to face the often stressful environment of a newspaper publishing company.

There was a sharp, chilly breeze that morning, and Akaashi was thankful that he had remembered to bring his coat. At this time of the morning, professionally dressed people were walking briskly past him in a hurry to get to work on time. They frequently glanced at their watches, hoping that if they kept an eye on the time perhaps it would go by slower.

His walk continued like this along the busy streets of Tokyo until he finally reached the 15 story building that he worked at. As he stepped through the sliding doors, the familiar sent of paper and printer ink was immediately caught in his nose. He began making his way towards the elevator when he ran into one of his coworkers, Yachi Hitoka. She worked in advertising for the newspaper; meaning she was in charge of designing advertisements that would appeal to readers and gain more revenue for the newspaper via the companies that they were advertising for. She was very good at her job, not to mention a diligent worker. As a matter of fact, she always came to work an hour early just to make sure she was organized and prepared for the work day ahead. In that sense, her and Akaashi were quite different.

She waved at him once they made eye contact, "Akaashi! Did you finish the article you were working on?" She smiled, and Akaashi wondered how she could possibly have the energy to do so at that hour. "Yes Yachi-san. I was very limited on time for this one, but I finished it after a few sleepless nights." That was only halfway a joke. Yachi's face switched from cheerful to concerned very quickly. "Please take care of yourself, Akaashi. Losing so much sleep is not good for your health!"

Akaashi smiled for the first time since he woke up, "Don't worry Yachi-san, now that I'm done with this article I'll be able to catch up with sleep this weekend." Yachi smiled, "That's good! I should probably get going now, we've got a really good advertising deal for our next paper so I have to work really hard today! See you later!" With that, Yachi hurried away to the elevator to the advertising floor. Akaashi smiled after her, "Good luck, Yachi-san."

Akaashi followed slowly after her and caught the next elevator trip to the writers' floor. There, he was met with the sound of clicking keys, stressed groans, and the sight of many many hands combing through hair. When he reached his desk, his editor was already waiting there for him. Oikawa Tooru flashed one of his pressing smiles that he would give to journalists he was in charge of to pressure them into taking their deadlines seriously.

"Akaashi~! You know the deadline for your article was to-" Akaashi cut him off right there, "I finished." He pushed the folder containing his most recent piece of work towards his troublesome editor. Oikawa's grin somehow got even wider, "Wonderful! It's been a pleasure doing business with you~!" Oikawa placed the article down on Akaashi's desk and cleared his throat. Akaashi internally groaned as that meant that this conversation was going to go even further.

"Um...by the way...I think you should head up to the boss man's office. Now." Akaashi's stomach sank at the tone of his voice. Had he done something wrong?

"Why?" He asked. Oikawa shrugged, "I doubt you're in trouble since your practically his star writer. I just wouldn't keep him waiting too long." Akaashi nodded.

"Well, in any case, I'll be off to look this over~! Goodbye for now!" Oikawa swiftly walked away before Akaashi could question him further.

He decided to take Oikawa's advice and get to his boss's office as soon as possible. His boss was on the very top floor of the building. The hallway he walked down to reach it was well lit, but somehow it seemed like one of those dark creepy hallways you see in horror movies where you know the protagonist is walking to their doom. Eventually, he was standing at a door that simply said "Executive." Akaashi slowly raised his fist and lightly knocked on the door. He heard a faint "come in" from the other side and entered.

Akaashi's boss was a middle aged man named Tokuma Isei. He looked up at Akaashi and allowed a faint smile, and Akaashi had to hold himself back from letting out a loud sigh of relief. He wasn't in trouble.

"Akaashi," his boss said, "come in. Have a seat." He gestured towards the chair in front of his desk and Akaashi sat down. Finally, his boss turned to him, completely focusing his attention on Akaashi. "First of all, I would like to congratulate you on the many successful articles you have written for our company. The readers can't seem to get enough of you. You should feel proud of what you have accomplished."

Akaashi gratefully nodded, "Thank you, sir. It's been a pleasure working here." His boss nodded, "You're probably wondering why I called you up here. I would like to discuss your next assignment with you in person. In my opinion, this is the most peculiar thing that has happened in Tokyo in a while." He paused. "Someone has been murdered."

Akaashi's eyes widened. It had been a very long time since he had been given a murder case. Although Tokyo was a big city, and big cities typically had higher crime rates, it was usually never more than someone being held an gunpoint or perhaps being shot but recovering after proper treatment.

"Who?" Akaashi managed to blurt out after a moment of silence. His face gave way to a very grave expression, "Oshima Takamori."

Akaashi gasped. Oshima Takamori was the head of a very successful record company. He is, or was, in charge of managing some of Japan's most famous artists. As far as Akaashi knew, not a single negative comment had been made about the man nor his company. How is it possible that he could have been murdered?

"How was he killed?"

"He was shot in his office yesterday."

"That's terrible..." Akaashi muttered, still in a state of disbelief.

"Indeed it is. The police are aware of the incredible articles you have written for our newspaper and are offering us a large sum of money to be the only news company that covers this story. Since we have such a long and trusting relationship with the police department, thanks to you, they are allowing you to interview the primary suspect."

Needless to say, Akaashi was in shock. When something as big as this happened, especially in a major city, news companies came flooding to the police for opportunities to interview almost anyone involved with the case. The fact that Tokyo's police department not only approached them first, but also gave them an opportunity to interview the person who very likely could have committed the murder is something that Akaashi has never experienced or witnessed in his entire short career.

"Who is the suspect? One of the people he manages?" Akaashi guessed.

"That would be correct. Bokuto Koutaro is his name. He plays the bass guitar in one of the bands Oshima managed called Ace."

Akaashi had never heard of the band before since his music taste leaned more towards older music. However, he can vaguely recall seeing the band on the cover of a magazine in a book shop he frequently visited. Naturally, he did not know which one Bokuto Koutaro was. 

"What makes them think that he's guilty?"

His boss smiled. "That, is something you will have to find out on your own. You will start your interviews today and should go to the city jail as soon as we are done here."

'Well,' Akaashi thought, 'This is quite last minute. I presume they had not planned on letting me turn down the chance to possibly endanger myself.' 

"I'll leave as soon as possible, sir." 


End file.
